


The Dictionary According to Phil Coulson

by LemonTeaAndAFiveDollarCoin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7319164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonTeaAndAFiveDollarCoin/pseuds/LemonTeaAndAFiveDollarCoin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson's life, told from A-Z.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A-D

Academy, n.  
When he gets accepted into the academy, he’s so excited that he forgets he’s washing Lola and promptly sprays himself in the face with water.  
He thinks he knows what the academy is going to entail. Saving the world, taking down bad guys, and shooting people from his secret laser-pen. Of course, looking back at this he knows the lines are more blurred. Sometimes the world doesn’t want to be saved. Sometimes the line between good and bad blurs, and he lays there at 3 in the morning wondering about all the ‘what ifs.”  
But most of all, in all his wild imaginations of SHIELD, he never thought he would meet someone like Melinda May.  
(The laser-pen never disappoints though.)

Air Vent, n.  
The first time Phil Coulson met Melinda May was in an air vent. Sure, he had heard of her in his first year. May, the kickass Asian girl that brought Johnson to his knees, the one that was rumored to have pranked Peggy Carter herself. But he’d always assumed that they were running in different orbits and besides, the academy schedule hardly had time for him to go out and get a social life.  
Then he met her in the air vents of the academy.  
Don’t get him wrong- He’s not usually the type of person to do… this. But his friend had insisted on trying to break into their espionage test scores, and he had foolishly accepted to be lookout. Well, maybe not that foolishly now.  
“What are you doing here?” They both blurted out, in loud whispers.  
“Well that’s a stupid question.” She retorted. “I’m here so I can dump eggs on Henderson. That asshole had it coming.”  
“Well that’s um, that’s nice-” Phil started.  
“Oh, I’m Phil by the way.” He added.  
“May. But you can call me Melinda.”  
“I know.” He blurted out without thinking.  
May, no, Melinda raised her eyebrow. “You know?”  
“Well uh I mean you’re pretty famous in the academy and I’ve, I’ve heard of some of the things you’ve done but I haven’t been a stalker or anything…” Phil Coulson stammered.  
She smirked.  
“You’re cool. We should work together sometime. But for now, don’t you have somewhere to be?”  
“Oh yeah, right um, just excuse me…” A flustered Phil quickly crawled along the air vents.

Bribe, v.  
The first time Coulson went into May’s dorm, he brought a bottle of wine and sat awkwardly perched at the edge of a seat, only relaxing when she asked if he planning on getting her drunk.  
“Because if you are it’s going to take much more than a bottle of wine for me to spill my secrets.”  
“…Damn my plan was foiled.”  
The second time Coulson went to May’s dorm, he brought a bottle of wine and sat awkwardly perched at the edge of the bed.  
“You know you’re just coming to my dorm right? You don’t have to do all this old fashioned gift giving stuff.”  
“How else am I going to charm you into spilling all your secrets?”  
“2/10 for execution but 7/10 for effort.” She said, before grabbing two glasses from her drawer and settling down to go through the notes from combat.  
The third time Coulson went to May’s dorm, he brought a box of green tea, and sat cross-legged on the floor.  
“As a trained agent in training do you really think you can bribe me with tea? Because you are 100% correct damn it.” 

Believe, v.  
“Oh god I’m going my practical exam today,” Grumbled Melinda, hiding her face beneath a mountain of books. “Please kill me now.”  
“Sorry euthanasia is illegal.” Replied Coulson.  
“I would kick you right now but animal abuse is bad.”  
“It’s okay animals hitting each other is usually considered apart of nature.”  
May looked puzzled. “Why would you sink yourself further?”  
“So I can be the same height as you.” Coulson replied with a straight face before collapsing in a fit of giggles as May swung a pillow over his face.  
“See? You can attack a trained agent-in-training with only a pillow. Don’t worry, I believe in you.”  
“Believe is an interesting word.”  
“How so?”  
“Well it’s just a word isn’t it? There’s no value to it and yet it’s supposed to calm someone down.”  
“I’m not saying it to relax you or anything. I’m just stating it as a fact.”  
“Oh dear Coulson, know the different between fact and opinion?”  
Coulson shrugged, smiling. “You can jest all you want, but the fact remains that I, Phillip J. Coulson believe in you.”  
“What is you’re middle name anyways? Justice? Jay? Justin? Junior?”  
“Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like…a practical exam?”  
“Jackass.” Cursed Melinda as she quickly ran out the door.  
“Is jackass you’re middle name?” Asked Melinda two seconds later as she popped her head back in the door. 

Coca-Cola, n.  
For a brief period in his life, Phil was an avid collector of bottle tops. He had glued them carefully onto a large wooden board that hung across his room, although he had to throw them away after an insect infestation got the better of them.  
He still keeps some of his favorite bottle caps. Not because of their aestheticism or value, but because of the memories. Like this Coca-Cola one. He remembers the first time he hangs out with Melinda May. He remembers the lazy summertime heat, the cool condensation that was wrapped around the glass bottles. He remembers looking at the sun streaming in between her hair, looking at her, and thinking about how lucky he got.

Cocaine in Cookie Jars  
Their first mission together was…a train wreck to say the least. They had spent years training together, preparing for every situation from angry mobs of grandparents to bad traffic. And yet here he was, alone in a foreign country, running away from various members of the mafia, and trying desperately to find May who, for all he knew, could be bleeding out from multiple stab wounds.  
No. He thought furiously to himself as he rounded another corner. There was no way May could’ve died. She was the best fighter, for Christ’s sake. But there’s always that ‘what if,’ that gets his heart hammering wildly in his chest, that spurs him to weave between alleyways.  
But the mafia, they know this place. This is their domain, and they are making it very clear that foreigners are not invited.  
***  
It had all started at the airport. The plane had been delayed for hours after poor weather, and they had to be at the undisclosed location by 6. Any later, and the insider would leave in order to avoid suspicion. As they stepped off the plane, Phil quickly grabbed his well-worn leather suitcase and hailed a cab.  
When Phil Coulson had opened his suitcase to find armed guns where his clothes should’ve been and cocaine in a cookie jar, he knew he had fucked up real bad. By the time he realized he had most definitely stuffed a copy of his location in his suitcase, he could feel the safety go off in the gun pressed to his head.  
Luckily, May chose this time to emerge from the corner and land a solid kick on the aggressor behind him. And then they ran-  
-Straight into the 15 mafia members waiting in the corridor.  
Holy shit these guys do not fuck around was Phil’s last thought before the two of them ran straight out of a nearby window. They landed butts first on the floor, bruised but otherwise unharmed.  
“Split up and meet at location?” Yelled Phil as they weaved amongst intense gunfire.  
May nodded, and then she was gone.  
***  
Later, an exhausted Phil Coulson trailed along the pier. He had pretty much managed to shake off the mafia, but there was no sign of May at the pier. (Their default “location” in new areas was to find the largest body of water. This location proved problematic at times, but no better system was ever developed.)  
“PHILLIP COULSON GET YOUR SORRY ASS OVER HERE.”  
He turned around in a confused circle, trying to find the source of the familiar voice. Then, he saw a small figure huddled on an island several kilometers away from shore. Grabbing a nearby boat, he hot-wired the engine and zoomed towards the island.  
Carefully maneuvering his boat over the boots of defeated mafia members, he finally reached Melinda May.  
“Well it’s about time.” She huffed, as she picked up a bundle of papers and hopped onto the boat. “Our informant passed these to me,” she explained. “He got away a few minutes ago, and hopefully the mafia boss will believe his escape story.”  
That was Phil’s signal to start moving. Halfway across the ocean, Phil turned around in curiosity.  
“Why didn’t you just swim back?” He asked.  
She looked at him like she wanted to toss him overboard.  
“Oh gee Coulson, because paper won’t be ruined if I duck it in water.” She replied, rolling her eyes.  
“…Right.”  
They moved in silence for a while.  
“Hey.”  
“Hey yourself.”  
“I’m really glad you’re alive.”  
“Me too.”

Desire, v  
He first feels desire towards Melinda when she has him pinned under the training mats, her body pressed tantalisingly close against his. He can hear her heavy breathing, her chest rising with every breath. Fuck.  
After that, she’s all he can think about.  
He feels desire as he watches her attack the punching bag. His breath hitches when she stares directly at her, his heart skips a beat when she smiles at him. His face flushes when she nibbles at her lip, his eyes grow dark when she smirks at him.  
Melinda May is becoming a problem and he’s determined to resolve it.  
He tries to distance himself, spend less time alone with her. He makes up excuses to bail out on hangouts, crosses the gym and the library off his frequently visited locations. And it works, for a while. But god, it’s just so…boring. He spends a good part of his evening just staring at the ceiling above his bed, or counting the seeds on his burger. (173 on average) The highlight of his week is hanging out with John at the bar, and hauling his drunken ass back home.  
So the next time May tentatively asks to hang out, he jumps eagerly to the offer. He can’t keep himself away, can’t break himself out of orbit. Melinda May is his problem and his solution and if the price of a friendship with May is butterflies in his stomach, then so be it. 

Death, n.  
He remembers the day he and May first discussed death. They had just been aimlessly sitting outside on top of a grassy hill for the whole day, and now the sky was beginning to swell and darken.  
“How do you think you’ll die?” Asked Phil aimlessly, looking over at her.  
“Do you know what? I hope it’s in the line of battle.” She replied, still staring at the sky.  
There was a pause, before Coulson spoke again.  
“Yeah.”


	2. E-H

Exuberant, adj.  
Sunlight streamed in from the window and onto the piles of notes that laid sprawled across the library where Coulson and May had retreated over the summer.  
“You know,” Started Coulson. “We’re technically adolescence. We could be sunbathing at the beach right now. What are we doing wasting the exuberance of our youth reading about how to converse in Spanish?”  
“We’re also technically two auxiliary verbs away from failing Spanish.” Reprimanded May, but as she said this she put her pen down and turned towards him, smiling.  
“So what would this exuberant Phil Coulson do in his spare time, may I ask?” Teased May. “Please don’t say Macarena,” She added under her breath.  
“Well I would start the day by waking up past noon.”  
She raises her eyebrows with a skeptical glance.  
“And then from there, I would just hang out with my friends. Maybe we would go watch a movie, maybe we would go to a bar and there I’d meet a girl…” He replied, trailing off.  
Phil looked up to meet Melinda’s eyes, and there they sat, motionless.  
Finally, May cleared her throat.  
“And then what would you do?”  
“I’d go talk to her. And maybe we’d hit it off right away. And maybe she won’t laugh at my captain America trading cards, and then we’d leave the crowded bar and just walk along the sidewalk…”  
After what seemed like eternity, Phil finally gave in and looked away.  
“But you know what? I wouldn’t give up SHIELD for all of that. Because I can joke about having a ‘normal’ life and all but there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here.”  
And if he had looked back, he would’ve seen May softly sigh and look away. 

Evaluate, v.  
Here’s the thing. Phil Coulson isn’t an idiot. Or a coward. (Well that’s what he tells himself anyway.) He’s an agent in training- part of his job will be evaluating the pros and the cons, and making the tough calls when necessary.  
So he evaluates whether or not he should ask out Melinda May. The pros are endless: getting to spend more time with her, getting to dance with her pressed up against him, getting to wake up in the morning seeing her in his bed, and hell, maybe even spending the rest of his life with her.  
But the cons are too strong, too serious to risk. Because what if she doesn’t feel the same way, and they never speak again because it’s too awkward? He couldn’t lose her like that. Not ever. What if she does feel the same way, but they don’t work out, and their lives never cross again? What if one of them dies, leaving the other to feel more pain than if they had just stuck to being friends?  
No. It’s too much of a risk. And with every passing day, their friendship becomes more invaluable to him, and with every day the stakes go up. He’s fine staying friends. And besides, they’ve got the rest of their lives to think this through. 

Freedom of Speech, n.  
“Well?’ Asked Melinda hopefully, watching as Coulson took a bite of the bread she made.  
He chewed. And chewed.  
“It’s very chewy.” He remarked.  
“But…do you loaf it.” She said with her best shit-eating grin.  
Coulson’s mouth hung slack in disappointment. “I didn’t hate it before but after that I definitely hate it.”  
“Hey you could at yeast try to be more appreciative.” She added, crackling.  
“I’m pretty sure you should be arrested for your heinous crimes.”  
“Hey freedom of speech! It’s in the bill of rights and all.”  
“And which of the amendments is it?”  
“…The first?”  
“Religion.”  
“Damn.”  
“Tut, tut- Daughter of the CIA and you can’t even recite the bill of rights backwards?”  
“You can recite the bill of rights backwards?”  
“You can’t?”

Future, n  
In just a few months, Coulson will be graduating from the academy. That is, agent Coulson, he thinks to himself giddily. Sure, all he’ll be doing for part of it are simple jobs like shadowing and taking orders. But if he closes his eyes, he can almost see himself leading a team, standing with them as they charge into battle.  
But then his smile falters. Because in just 3 months, he won’t be turning around to see May in the corridors, won’t be spending evenings playing scrabble with her, won’t be with her…  
“Hey.”  
“Hey.” He says, looking up to see Melinda hesitantly crossing over to his bed.  
“Thinking about graduation?”  
“Yeah.”  
They sat in silence.  
“I guess I just always thought we had forever, you know?” He started.  
“I mean we’ll still keep in contact right?”  
“Of course. We’ll call every Friday.”  
They shook on it.  
“Just a second- I have to make a call to someone.” Said Coulson after a beat. Seconds later, May’s phone rang. She took one look at the caller ID before she smiled and answered.  
“Hey Coulson.”  
“Hey May.”  
“What’s up?”  
“Well, I just realized that I in 3 months I could never see my best friend again and don’t know how to say that she means a lot to me.”  
“Maybe you can practice saying it to me first.”  
“You mean a lot to me.”  
“You mean a lot to me.” She utters back and though he tries not to, he feeds his illusions of something more. 

Graduation, n  
“Hey you want to get out of here?” Asked Coulson, sliding up to May with a drink in his hand.  
May raised an eyebrow. “Are you proposing that we leave the highly formal and important graduation dinner with potential bosses to wander around meaninglessly?”  
“I’m proposing we leave before it’s not just your foot that falls asleep. The story of Dr. Jacobs and the sheep is only interesting the first twelve times.” Phil said as he swept a glance at the ballroom filled with spies in suits eating shrimp cocktails.  
“And they said I was a bad influence on you.” Giggled May, as she swung her purse over her shoulder.  
***  
The grass beneath them crunched as they made their getaway. Suddenly, May halted in the middle of the field, where the academy was but a distant speck in the horizon.  
“It’s been a good 4 years, hasn’t it?” Started Coulson, tilting his head to look at her.  
“It has. Well, except for that once dance elective. Not that it was difficult for me.”  
“Well, I’d like to see you prove that.” Replied Coulson, holding out his hand. “May I?”  
His hand interlocked with hers, and the other slid against her back, feeling the silky fabric of her red dress skim across his fingertips. And for a second, they just stood there, staring into each other’s eyes.  
Phil wasn’t sure who first moved but he found himself pulling herself closer as they slowly danced across the field. He was close enough to feel the steady beat of her heart, the soft flutter of her breath. He was close enough to smell the soft, citrus scent of her shampoo, close enough to see her eyes illuminated by nothing but the moonlight. He wanted everything to fade into the background so he could focus on remembering every bit of her in this moment- the twirl of her hair, the soft swish of her dress, the ghost of a smile on her lips.  
He could spend an eternity like this and still hope for one more minute.

Goodbye, v.  
The first few days without her felt like a hollow pang against his heart. But the pang began to fade and as he marked off his first year of being an agent, he saw the two of them grow apart.  
He hated watching their conversation slowly grew staler, hated how they began to talk less. He hated how she went from picking up after the first ring to opening his voicemails. He could feel it too, feel their conversations move from questions about their infinitesimal existence to questions about what they ate for breakfast. Stale. Boring. Oh god. The last memory Melinda would have of him would be that lame kid in the academy.  
People leave right? They grow apart. They change. Maybe that was what was happening to them. They were both busy settling into their own lives, and it wasn’t exactly like they had that much in common to begin with. Maybe it would be better if they just remembered each other as a happy memory, a ‘what-if’ from the past.  
Goodbye Melinda May, he thinks. 

Happened, v.  
3 things happened in the summer of 1996, as listed in reverse order of importance:  
1- He got shot.  
What was meant to be a simple tailing mission went south, and he took a bullet to his shoulder. Given that he was pumped high on all sorts of drugs at the time, all he remembered is that the infirmary smelt of artificial lemon and that physiotherapy is a bitch.  
2- He had a dream about Melinda May.  
It had been about a year since they last spoke, but this dream felt more lifelike than the past year. In the dream, they were in a group huddle with a few other agents. Suddenly, he just…felt this connection, this hyperawareness of her gaze. And something stops him from lifting up his head to meet her gaze, like if she saw him she could see the hopeless love plastered across his face. He's stuck in this position, convinced everyone else must feel the panicked beating of his heart.  
Nothing can quite shake off the emptiness of his heart after that.  
3- He got transferred to where Melinda May was stationed.  
The first part was due to a decision from the higher-ups following concerns about his safety, and the second part was because when asked to choose a place, he blurted out the Triskelion. Obviously, because the Triskelion is a great SHIELD facility, and definitely had nothing to do with a pipe dream concerning an old academy friend. 

Helpless, adj.  
“Melinda.” He says, as he approached her. Fuck. It had been two years. What if she had forgotten him? Who was he kidding? Of course she had-  
“Phil? No way! It really is you! How, why are you here?”  
Well you see, he thinks, I had a dream where you were there, not sexually of course, not that you aren’t sexually attractive because you are but the point is that made me feel things and long story short I wanted to transfer here even though we haven’t spoken in a year-  
“Oh, I got transferred.” He responded.  
“Oh that’s great news! Listen, I have to go to a briefing, but we should really catch up sometime.” She replied.  
“What about tonight? You could show me around Virginia?” He blurted out. Well fuck. There probably was a reason she didn’t specify a specific date, it’s because she never wants to see you again-  
“Depends, will you start singing Britney Spears after five beers?” Quipped May.  
“That was. One time.” He answered and if he closed his eyes, he could almost delude himself into thinking that everything was normal.  
***  
She wore a dress.  
Well, at least he has the evidence to disprove the hypothesis that he’s over her.  
“Cheers.”  
“Cheers.”  
They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence as they sat across each other.  
“So…how has it been?” Started Coulson.  
And for the first time in a long time, he saw her face break into a large smile.  
“I got married.” She started, her eyes looking down with a smile.  
Phil nearly spat out his drink. “I’m sorry?”  
“His name is Andrew- he’s a psychologist who helped to consult with the agency in one of the cases. At first I thought he was just one of those, shrinks.” She started, her arms gesticulating at the word shrink. “But he, uh, he grew onto me. We’ve only been married for a few months but, oh I don’t know how to describe it it’s like-”  
“Like suddenly you can’t take deep breaths because the thought of them fills your heart and spills out of you? Like suddenly you’re burning with newfound energy? Like everything is brighter, sweeter, better? Like you must have been a saint in the last life to be able to wake up to their face every morning? Like being apart for even a day makes your heart physically ache?”  
“Yes.” Melinda breathed. “That’s exactly it.”  
Phil looked down at the half empty drink sitting on the counter.  
“You never invited me to the wedding.” He said softly.  
She sighed. “Sorry. It was all so sudden, and we eloped Vegas. Besides, we weren’t exactly blood brothers at that time.”  
“Hey no, you don’t need to apologize and you’re right- we did lose contact. I’m really happy for you though.” He started. “So tell me more about this Andrew guy- how interested is he in captain America?” Phil joked, trying to ignore the deadweight that had settled uncomfortably in his gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whhhhhahahahat no I didn't leave this for almost a year that couldn't be,,,  
> The disadvantage of this though is that most of my young Philinda headcannons don't hit with the official storyline but shhhhhhhhh  
> See you in a year LMAO

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read down here congrats you are a beautiful slice of sashimi. Tbh I've been working on this for something like a year now, which is why some of the later ones sound copy pasted from the show when in reality I wrote them first : ))). 
> 
> Anyways thank you for reading, this is the first piece of fanfiction I've put out there so pls liek k thnx bai.


End file.
